


Lance Sanchez and the hidden city

by Ian_is_so_very_lost



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan, Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Alternate Universe - Percy Jackson Fusion, BAMF Keith (Voltron), BAMF Lance (Voltron), BAMF Pidge | Katie Holt, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Character Study, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Greek and Roman Mythology - Freeform, Hellhounds, Hunk & Lance (Voltron) Friendship, Hunk (Voltron) is a Good Friend, Hunk (Voltron) is so Pure, Hunk (voltron) is the voice of reason, Insecure Lance (Voltron), Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith and Shiro are Adoptive Siblings, Lance (Voltron) Angst, Lance (Voltron)-centric, Langst, Male Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Minor Original Character(s), Multi, Original Character(s), Other, Road Trips, Samoan Hunk (Voltron), Sassy Pidge | Katie Holt, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Socially Awkward Keith (Voltron), ah sorry, they call me the tailor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-02-18 13:23:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13101057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ian_is_so_very_lost/pseuds/Ian_is_so_very_lost
Summary: Q: What happens when the godly dad of your rival shows up at your summer camp and tells you to go find him?a.) Thank him immeditatily for this chance to prove yourself and do it blindly even though the dude is a completely assholeb.) Tell him that you will and then actually start doing it a couple years later.c.) Ignore him, and not only find his son four hours later; but also find your hero, and find out you and all your friends (plus your asshole rival and your idol) are part of a prophecyIf you awnsered C, You are either Lance Sanchez or a good actor.





	1. To be frank, I'm Lance

**Author's Note:**

> First of all, This will be slow. I'm not sorry. I have school and its hard for me to commit to anything. But I will try.  
> Secondly, lol you saw that this chapter has a refrence to Frank (well if you read the hoo series lol)  
> Third, I hope you all enjoy this ʕ•ᴥ•ʔ please leave kudos and comments, its what motivates me lol

Lance both loved and hated the war games.

 

He loved fighting and figuring out a strategy to a problem on the battlefield. His brain loved puzzles and liked not dying. It’s quite the combo.

 

He hated the fifth cohort were always the battering ram, he never did any actual fighting, and the fact no-one would listen to him. His egp was rubbed raw with how many times he felt useless even when he had a solution. But he had no say.

 

So here he is, marching in heavy armor.

 

He had already been yelled at for the following: the straps of the chest plate being out of place, and wielding a weapon which he is not as proficient as he’s supposed to be.  ‘Soldiers are supposed to wield swords, not bows and arrows’ Vitellius would constantly tell him as Lance waxed his bow. Well Lance didn't take the opinions of a man (or, well, ghost) who thought Mister Underwear was a good name choice, very seriously.

 

Walking in the second line. Holding a slightly rusted shield over his head to defend himself from scorpions and the pressurized water canons. Doomed to fail again.

 

“Lance, just do it.” Hunk pushed Lance gently as they waked in sync.

 

Lance sighed and he trod forward, at the edge of the cohort. “Hunk, you know I can't do that here.”

 

“Don't let your dreams be dreams.” Hunk whispered and Lance groaned. No this again. “Yesterday you said tomorrow.”

 

“I know.” Lance didn't have the strength to verbally defend himself against memes today. Nope.

 

“So just do it.”

 

“What are you two talking about?” Pidge piped up and Lance made the face of _this is why I’m not blowing up the goddamn water cannons_ at Hunk, which he’s pretty sure he’s mastered or at least nailed down ever since he told Hunk his secret.

 

Hunk rolled his eyes and stopped pushing Lance outside the line. But he looked at ground with slight disappointment that made Lance’s stomach twist when Hunk muttered “Nothing really interesting Pidge.”

 

“Sure, right.” Pidge sounded sceptical as always. He was totally a conspiracy theorist. Pidge had been assigned to them because the other four cohorts didn’t like that he was 120 pounds of  attitude. Pidge was the inverse of a roman soldier with his sword technique and demeanor and seemed to be proud of it.

 

The three of them marched in silence which was just fun and games until the exact section of the Cohort that Lance, Hunk, and Pidge were in got blasted out of turtle formation because of the water cannon that Lance wouldn’t blow up.

 

He felt his chest cave and the force of the highly pressurized water knocks him back.

 

And Lance regained his beloved consciousness to find himself with a headache and out of armor and next to Hunk and Pidge who were sipping Ambrosia in the all-too familiar infirmary.

 

Hunk has a shiner that's fading at a supernatural rate and Pidge just looked like he had just out sweat a minotaur while running through a maze, except without the hyperventilating.

 

“Hey guys.” Those were the words he would have said, except for the fact that his mouth was completely filled with sawdust and cotton balls which made it sound more like “Eeey gois...”

 

Pidge grimaced at his voice like Lance’s voice was a physical punch in the same way the water cannons were and put down his glass. “Jesus Sanchez, I would ask what the fuck happened to your throat but I already know.”

 

Hunk hushed at him and gave Lance the dorky orange glass that he had been sipping for a couple of seconds now. Lance chugged it and felt the burn of his joints mending together, bruises healing, and his body burning in the best/worst way. After the last bit of pain was gone, he had the gentle aftertaste of the cookies that his mom would make him he was sick. Hunk put his hand on his shoulder and rubbed a bit before asking,  “Feel better man?”

 

Lance grinned, “You bet I do!” and then lifted himself off the infirmary bed. “We should get going, don’t be late for the award ceremony. ” Because being late meant being sewn inside a bag of angry weasels. And that's fun and all but Lance would rather not have that happen. Again.

 

“Yeah maybe the fifth will win something for once.” Hunk picked himself up and looked cheery.

 

“Yes and you’ll not throw up before war games.” Pidge clambered after them with his short legs, as snide as ever.

 

“Oh by Pluto, that was once!” Hunk squeaked back indignantly.

 

“If once you mean every two weeks and you change the was to is, then yeah I guess you could say that.” And that went back and forth until they got to the pavilion.

 

When they arrived at the pavilion where the after game talk happened, Lance noticed real quick that the mood was off by a lot. Everyone was dead silent. No gripping, sighing, arguing, boasting or bragging. Any sort of adjective besides breathing, standing, and existing was void and invalid.

 

They were all a good distance away from the center stage where a strong and tall man with a flat top, a face so full of scars he might have been Deadpool’s big brother, and he had what some would call night vision goggles, except on this oddity they might be known as nightmare goggles because they seem to be on fire. Or maybe the fire was inside his goggles. Lance couldn't see from over here. Lance felt his hands clench and his teeth grind in a way that he hadn't done in a year. He blinked in bemused anger, his brows furrowed, why was he so angry?

 

The man was yelling. “Are you absolutely fucking sure that my son hasn't been here for a year?!?!” After the stunned silence (Lance could see at least one adult covering the ears of the younger Romans), the man took a deep breath and then said quieter but no less threatening, to be honest it was more so. “I mean I know that one of Jupiter’s got lost but you should have some idea of where my kid is.”

 

The silence which hung both like fog, smog, was broken by a guillotine whose string had been cut with safety sissors known as Centurion Dakota said “I’m sorry Lord Mars, we don't know where Keith is. He left in the night.”

 

Hunk leaned over to Lance and whispered, “SO he’s lord Mars. So that make Keith his son, right?”

 

The moment that Hunk said Keith’s name Lance got angrier, if that was possible, and Mars’ head jerked in their direction like a ventriloquist dummy that had an ameaur ventriloquist with falutly fine motor control. The flames that were covering (?) the night vision goggles blew out of proportion and then turned to cartoonishly small dots which felt like they were boring into Lance even though there were more than twenty people in front of them. Then the god of war (and agriculture) started stalking over to the edge of the pavilion like a shitty shadow puppet wolf which looked ridiculous when people were parting for him like the red sea before Moses. Lance felt the urge to punch something growing with each step that the intimidating man in camo print took to get closer to him.

 

He stopped in front of Lance and leaned in close.

 

“Aren't you that Mcclain fellow?” Lance gritted his teeth at the sandpapery voice that came out of the deity's mouth.

 

“It’s Sanchez, sir.”

 

“Well, _Sanchez_ ,” Mars sneered as he leaned in, but then when he got give inches away from Lance’s face he started to whisper in a tone that seemed like a concern helicopter parent who worked in the pta and thoroughly unsuitable for a god of war,  “Make sure you find Keith. I know you two got off on the wrong foot but he doesn't know how to connect with others and needs some new friends.” The god clapped him on the back and started walking back to the center of the pavilion, leaving Lance super confused.

 

As soon as the god vanished; Iverson, who is a pissy veteran praytor starts talking “Of course these three grab his attention.” He growled to the rest of the Camp “Mcclain, Garrett, and Gunderson: wait here. Everyone else, please go to the mess hall and enjoy your meal.”

 

As everyone trickled out, Lance sighed “We’re in real deep, aren’t we?”

 

Pidge shrugged. “Probably”

 


	2. We technically sneak out after I dream of spinning death orbs and my lost idol

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In honour of the best boy, Hunk, I post a chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “QUID COITIO?” means What the fuck, in latin.  
> "O le gagana e tasi e le lava." means One language is never enough in Samoan  
> "Un idioma no es suficiente.” is supposed to mean the same as "O le gagana e tasi e le lava." but in spanish.
> 
> i cant conentate, also please comment so I can hear what you guys think of this so far. Also I am 80% sure I fucked up the spanish and the samoan, so if you can correct me; that would be so great.

When the rest of the Romans exited the pavillion, the only ones left were the centurions and the Praetors. The praetors were having a very quiet mini conference.

 

Well this isn't going to be much fun, Lance thought to himself while rocking back and forth. Damn, it was super quiet in here. Too bad it wouldn't last.

 

As if Iverson could hear his thoughts, the Praetor turned his attention towards the trio. “Now... Gunderson, Garrett, and Mcclain.”  Lance gritted his teeth, after 12 years the old wind bag could never get his name right.  ”You three are an embarrassment to your cohort! All three of you were talking during the first march, none of you stood your ground against the water canons- ”

 

“We couldn't have done anything about that!!!” Pidge shreaked indignantly. Lance cringed for a second, everyone here sans Pidge knew that he could have. Iverson raised an eyebrow and Lance saw the centurians trying not laugh.

 

Iverson continued like he hadn't never been interrupted in the first place. “And when I have observed you in training, I've always thought: if they’re going to be this bad on their own, they'd better at least be able to work as a team! But nooo. Camp Jupiter exists to turn young demigods like you, into something other than monster chow. But these kinds of mental mistakes are exactly what cost the lives of the heroes on the Goderich Recruitment Mission.”

 

“That's not true, sir!” Pidge yelled, predictably full of a rage that was disportionate to his size.

 

“What did you say?” Iverson narrowed his eye at Pidge.

 

Lance smiled and he held his hand over Pidge’s angry mouth. “Sorry, sir.”  Pidge continued to make muffled noises behind Lance’s palm. Lance pressed down slightly harder. Pidge had gotten lucky with his earlier comment because Iverson hated Lance and wanted him to feel bad. But the last thing either of them needed was punishment. And Iverson looked like he was itching to give them one. “I think the ambrosia hasn't completely healed the bump from when he got smashed into the ground by the high pressure water cannon. But point taken.”

 

Iverson smirked for a second at Pidge before focusing on Lance. “By the way, Congratulation on getting in to the Pegasus pilots. I hope I don't need to remind you that the only reason you're going there is that the best pilot had a discipline issue and flunked out. Don't even think to follow in his footsteps, Mcclain. Dismissed.”

 

The centurians left in a rush, but before Hunk or Lance could leave: Iverson called out to them. “Mcclain, Garrett. Your interruption in the pavillion will mean that you both be doing the 10 pm to 1 am patrol of the tunnel.”

 

Thank goodness Lance’s face was in the opposite direction of the Praetor. If not, Iverson would have gotten the satisfaction of Lance’s beautiful face twisted into a grimace.

 

* * *

 

When Lance went to bed that night, well for about two hours, he dreamed. As with half bloods, they dream. But unlike mortals, they dreamed of the past and the future. There’s never a dream that was random.

 

Lance found himself across the street from a restaurant with the name “Pat And Kevin’s On The Square”. He looked to his left and saw he was standing next to a group of men. There was a man who looked like a college age Pidge, an older man with a mustache, and a buff man with dark hair.

 

The Pidge look-a-like was tinkering with a device about the size of a grapefruit, and the only one with facial hair watched.

 

“Easy, son. This orb is delicate.” The old(ish) man said, and the younger man (his son?) snorted and shrugged him off.

 

“It's fine dad.” He’s brow furrowed and then orb glowed blue and white. The son of the older man lit up like a light bulb. He turned to the buff man. “Amazing. Isn't this exciting, Shiro?”

 

Lance jolted, wait did that guy say that that was shiro, like Takashi Shirogane? One of the top pilots of the Pegasi pilots?

 

Does that mean that the ‘dad’ was Sam holt? One of the many clear sighted mortals that figured out how to make technology that did not act as demigod sonar for monsters?  Then younger one would be Matt holt! The son of Ceres who killed a lamia with a field of grass seven years ago!

 

Then that means he’s in Goderich, Canada. What the hell.

 

Lance had been so lost in thought that he lost track of the conversation. When he tuned back in, Matt was looking at his father. One hand on the orb while the other was gesturing frantically “Think of it, Dad. We could use this to be the first people to meet naiad and half blood offspring with their own civilization.”

 

Professor Holt huffed, amused with his son and bit vexed a bit. “Son watch it, you could break the orb.”

 

Matt realized what he ment and laughed. “Sorry, dad. But seriously, what are the odds pops?”

 

Professor Holt chuckled. “Son, the chances are pretty slim.”

 

At that moment, the orb glowed bright purple and launched itself about 12 feet into the air before slamming back to the earth. Matt’s hands were almost crushed if not for Shiro pulling him back in the nick of time. Lance’s felt his dream vision doubling.

 

“What the _fuck_  was that?” Matt shouts, backing up. The orbs starts spinning at rate that is definitely not helping Lance’s feelings of nausea. Its acting as a woodchipper to the cement, as if the cement was packaging peanuts. Professor Holt froze and Shiro pulled him back by the collar.

 

“ **QUID COITIO?** ” Shiro yelled.

 

The thing sprang out of the earth and levitated. It then it did it’s best impression of the offspring of a demonic tea kettle and a moose whistle. The response were howls that most definitely belong to some fuckers in tartus.

 

Professor Holt’s eyes widened in fright. “What? What is that? It can't be.”

 

Shiro turned in Lance’s direction, eyes full of fear. “Run! Come on, run!”

 

And then Lance woke up to Hunk shaking him.

 

“Lance, we’ve gotta get up. It’s time for our patrol.”

 

Lance stared at the ceiling for a couple of seconds before sighing and getting out of bed. He grabbed his bow, quiver, and gladius. He put them on the bed and reached down under the mattress to grab his armour. Hunk face became concerned. “Bud, whats up?”

 

“I had a dream.” Lance said as he slipped the chest plate over his hoodie and shirt that he hadn't taken off since dinner. He paused “Hey, Hunk can you do my straps? Don’t want a centurion to reprimand me again.”

 

“Sure, but tell what’s got you so rattled.”

 

Lance felt Hunk’s hands start tying knots and sliding the straps. Lance was doing the same to his wrist guards and his greaves. “I think I saw someone I know die.”

 

Hunk hummed before replying.“Really? Is it someone I know?”

 

“No.”

 

Hunk finished setting the last strap and then asked. “Do you want to talk about it on patrol or in the morning?”

 

“Morning.” Lance grabbed his quiver and started to filling it with arrows. Lance’s voice pitched higher when he asked, “So are we still on for Samoan patrol lessons?”

 

“Sure, as long as we're on for Spanish patrol lesson.” Hunk smiled and patted his back. “After all: **O le gagana e tasi e le lava.** ”

 

Lance smiled and laughed as he slung his quiver over his shoulder and stuffed the gladius in his belt. “ **Un idioma no es suficiente.** ”

 

As they headed out of the cohort, chatting back in forth in both languages, they saw a hint of gold and green flash through the open ground. Lance whipped his head at Hunk, raising his eyebrows. “How many dracma do you wanna bet that that’s Gunderson?”

 

Hunk’s lips pursed. “Lance no. We’re supposed to go on patrol. If we do this, we’ll end up in trouble again. N-no, wait that's wrong: I’ll end up in trouble.”

 

Lance grinned a Cheshire cat grin and elbowed Hunk. “You heard Praeter Iverson. We need to bond as a team. We're going to grab Pidge, figure out why he’s out at this hour, then drag him to patrol-”

 

Hunk groaned and waved his hands. “Okay, I'm-I’m just, I’m just saying this here, right now, on the record;” Hunk pointed at the ground for emphasis and then finished the thought, stating bluntly and staring Lance right in the eye. “This is a bad idea.”

 

And so they followed him, far from the path they they were suppose to go. Hunk and Lance found themselves on a hill looking over the central Plaza of New Rome.

 

Surrounding Pidge was a ridiculous amount of tech, which would be ridiculously dangerous if they were not in Camp Jupiter. He seemed completely engrossed with his work with large headphones in. The music leaking out of said headphones had a heavy bass, so he probably couldn't hear Lance. He didn't notice when Lance walked over, squatted like a slav, lifted one side of the headphones, and whispered. “You come up here to rock out?”

 

Which lead to Pidge shouting and almost killing Lance with the his hand gestures, he turned to them. When he saw it was them, his eyes widened. “Oh, Lance, Hunk. No, um, just looking at the stars.”

 

Lance tilted his head and looked at Pidge’s equipment: a large laptop, and many things that resembled satellite dishes. “Man where'd you get this stuff? It doesn't look like something you could nick from the community college.”

 

Pidge puffed up with pride. Hunk’s figure was slowly moving in like a hungry, hungry (for knowledge) caterpillar. “I built it.”

 

Hunk’s voice resounded with awe as he gently reached out and asked. ”You built all of this?” Hunk looked like he was witnessing the birth of a new planet or a kid playing with snow for the first time.

 

Pidge slapped his hand away. “Stop it!” He then turned to Lance and smirked proudly, acting as if Hunk hadn't tried to touch it. “With this, I find anyone on the entire continent.”

 

Lance’s eyebrow went up. That’s an impressive claim about something that looks like the love child of a macbook and an 80’s office computer, Lance thought. “That right? All the way to Goderich?” Pidge groaned, and shifted. Lance didn't know him well enough, but he could guess that Gunderson was pouting. Hunk was inching closer again. Lance sat down next to him, and leaned closer. “You go ballistic every time anyone bring it up. What's your deal?” Lance’s arm waved slightly to punctuate the last sentence.

 

Pidge ignored his question and looked quickly at Hunk, glaring. “Second warning!” And Hunk backed up again, making noises of disappointment.

 

Lance sighed. “Look, Pidge, if we're going to bond as a team, we can't have any secrets.”

 

Pidge sighed as well, except way more dramatic, and then he straightened his spine. “Fine, “ He forced out that word before continuing. “The world as you know it is about to change. The Goderich Mission wasn't lost because of some mal- Stop touching my equipment!” Pidge hit Hunk’s hand again and he sat back in defeat.

 

Pidge slouched again, probably pouty at Hunk for interrupting him. “So yea, I've been scanning the system and picking up some sort of non-roman demigod radio chatter.”

 

Hunk’s head shot straight up like a possessed prairie dog. His eyes were the size of dinner plates as his hoarse voice choked out. “Wait? What?”

 

“Okay. So, you're insane. Got it.” Lance drawled. “Nice to know.”

 

Pidge’s face pinched up in frustration. “I'm serious.”

 

“I have no doubt that you're serious, it’s just that there's no way to survive out there if you aren't trained.” Lance strenched.

 

“We know that there are non-roman demigods out there!”

 

“Those are rumors, then the people who go looking are never found again.” Lance waved his hand lazily. He felt his stomach tighten as he remembered 25 minutes earlier, he heard Mat say something close to what Pidge was claiming.

 

“They are real! I keep hearing them talk about an ‘empire’, ‘the prophecy’, but recently they keep coming back to one word, ‘Voltron.’ Tonight, it's going crazier than I have ever heard it.” Pidge insisted.

 

Lance’s eyebrow raised and he cocked his head. “How crazy?”

 

But before Pidge could answer him, a bright light blinds the three of them and they duck. Lance hears a large thunk over by the trees. Hunk and Lance look at each other before they look at Pidge whose mouth is wide in shock. Then Lance hears Iverson, over loudspeaker, saying “Attention, campers. This is not a drill. We are on lockdown! Security situation Zulu Niner. Repeat: all students are to remain in Cohorts until further notice.”

 

Pidge looked at the three of them, wheels turning in his head. “We have to find out what that was.”

 

Hunk looked at him with disbelief. “No we don’t”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “QUID COITIO?” means What the fuck, in latin.  
> "O le gagana e tasi e le lava." means One language is never enough in Samoan  
> "Un idioma no es suficiente.” is supposed to mean the same as "O le gagana e tasi e le lava." but in spanish.
> 
> i cant conentate, also please comment so I can hear what you guys think of this so far. Also I am 80% sure I fucked up the spanish and the samoan, so if you can correct me; that would be so great.


	3. The Weather Report Said Nothing About Chariots Falling From The Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We find Shiro, alive and well. Oh yeah, Mullet is there too

 

Hunk looked at Pidge with such utter disbelief that he could easily be a reaction pic on Tumblr. “No, we don’t”

 

Pidge rolled his eyes at Hunk, picked up his equipment, and then started running on his tiny, tiny legs.

 

Lance grabbed Hunk’s arm as he stood up. “Bro, come on!” Then he took off running in the direction of the light, tugging Hunk along with him.

 

Hunk sighed in defeat as he jogged along, muttering under his breath. “Oh, this is the worst team-building exercise ever.”

 

The three found themselves standing behind a rock, about 20 feet away from a group of Roman officers. They seemed like they were looking over a broken chariot. That’s on fire. What is the world coming to, Lance think while “borrowing” Pidge’s binoculars. In the mode that was a hellish mix of infrared vision and night vision.

 

Pidge nudges him, and then asks. “Alright Legolas, what do your dumbass eyes see?"

 

“I see Bofa.” Lance said, completely deadpan. He heard Hunk choke. He didn't look over at him, but if Lance had to guess: Hunk had to be making the ‘Lance oh my fucking Jupiter you gnarly bastard.’ Or the ‘hoe don’t do it’ face. Pidge was silent.

 

“...what’s bofa?”He asked. Wait, he does know? Lance felt the urge to break out into a grin.

 

Lance put down the binoculars. He looked at the small gremlin rather dramatically, “Bofa deez nuts.”And then Hunk and Lance started laughing.

 

Pidge’s face felt flat with annoyance. They rolled their gigantic eyes, magnified through the glass, and let out a long and loud. ”Laaaance!” Lance was not prepared to a sharp jab to the abs.

 

“Ow! Right, chariot on fire.” Lance huffed, raising the binoculars to his eyes once again. He groaned. The number of Roman officers seemed to have doubled. “Man, we'll never get past all those guys to get a look.

 

“Aw, man.” Hunk said in a fake disappointed tone. He shrugged. “Well, I guess there's nothing to do but head back to the barracks, right?”

 

Pidge huffed and snatched the binoculars from Lance. His eyes widened in the direction. His voice was high pitched with excitement when he said, “Wait. They set up a computer, “ He then opened his own computer. After a couple of minutes of frantic typing, he raised his head and grinned at Hunk and Lance. “And I activated its webcam. Look!”

 

Both Lance and Hunk scooted closer to Pidge’s computer. The three of them looked at the screen and saw Takashi Shirogane on a makeshift bed. He was being examined by some of the older Romans.

 

Lance gasped and said “That's Shiro! He was the main centurian of the Goderich Mission! That guy's my hero!”

 

Shiro was recognizable, despite the grainy screen, though it was quite clear he had changed. He looked more ripped than when Lance saw him a year ago. He had a streak of white in his hair, he had black circles under his eyes for miles, his eyes were only starting to focus. He also had a long scar on his face. Not to be rude but the guy looked fucked up.

 

Hunk shrugged. “Guess he's not dead in Canada, after all.”

 

“Shhh.” Pidge shushed them. How rude.

 

The taller officer was a woman who was loading something into a syringe. Shiro’s eyes locked on the movement of her hands. “Hey! What are you doing?"

 

They saw the back of someone with their hands behind their back. “Calm down, Shiro. We just need to keep you quarantined until we run some tests.” Oh, it was Iverson.

 

Shiro fought the hands holding him down, his head whipping around wildly. “You have to listen to me! Chronos is coming!”He took in a deep breath.“They’re are coming!”He coughed up blood.

 

Pidge made a face that Lance couldn't decipher. “Where's the rest of the crew?

 

Iverson stoically asked. “Do you know how long you've been gone?”

 

Shiro grunted, eyes crazed. “I don't know. Months? Years? Look, there's no time. The empire is coming here for a weapon. They're probably on their way. They'll destroy us. He’ll destroy everything. We have to find Voltron.”

 

Pidge gasped.

 

Another Officer turned to Iverson. “Sir, take a look at this. It appears his arm has been replaced with a prosthetic. It’s origins are unclear.”

 

Lance squinted. Huh, what do you know? There was a robot arm!

 

“Put him under until we know what that thing can do.”

 

Shiro’s eyes grew even more crazed. He frantically whipped his head back and forth, struggling in the restraints. His wide eyes saw the syringe “No. No. No - no - don't put me under! No! There's no time! Let me go!”

 

Then the woman gave him a shot, and the room went quiet with the exception of scientific blathering and the beeping of a machine.

 

Pidge’s voice was quiet with what sounded like disbelief and fury. “...they didn't ask about the rest of the crew.”

 

They were quiet, until Lance broke the silence. “What are they doing? The guy’s a legend; he’s a part of the first cohort! They're not even gonna listen to him?”

 

Pidge’s eyes narrowed at the screen and then closed it with a quick snap. He stood up and looked at the crash site, his eyes full of fire. “We have to get him out.”

 

“Uh, I hate to be the voice of reason here, always, but weren't we watching on a computer because there was no way to get past them?” Hunk said, leaning back and quirking his eyebrows.

 

“That was before we were properly motivated. We've just got to think.”He thought for a solid moment.“Could we tunnel in?” Lance offered.

 

Hunk looked at him with a unimpressed ‘is that the best you can think of.’ Lance answered him with a narrowing of eyes and a ‘for the last time, I’m not outing myself to pidge’ face. Lance could feel Pidge’s eyes boring into him, but he had to answer Hunk’s face of ‘its been a year’ with his own face of ‘one, five months and two, I don't know him well enough.’

Hunk shrugged again, nodded in the direction of Pidge, and then gestured to his arm. Lance took this be a one of Hunk’s more recent faces. The ‘you know him well enough to stick up for him when he was still a Probatio’ face.

 

Lance looked at Pidge, ignoring Hunk’s continuing the conversation, and then asked, ”Got any ideas, Pidge?”

 

Pidge seemed to like he was going to ask them about what they were doing, then his face morphed in a way that meant that he probably thought better of it, and then said.“We could get some hazmat suits and sneak in like med techs.”

 

Hunk, still on the fence and very much against corporal punishment being bestowed on the three of them said. “Or we dress up like cooks, head the pavilion, sneak into the kitchen - little late-night snack. Then get back to patrol duty.”

 

Lance looked at Hunk who just shrugged and made a ‘worth a shot’ face. Lance centered himself and then grinned, looking off to the side of dramatic effect. “ ... No. What we need is a distraction.”

 

As if the universe decided to humor Lance on this one occasion, there was a huge explosion right as he finished speaking and the wind caused by said explosion made Lance’s hair wave. Along with his clothes and everyone else's. What.

 

“WHAT!!!” “OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!” “HOLY CROW!!!” They all exclaimed as they hopped and bounced in excitement.

 

“What was that?!” Hunk stammered, eyes a lit with fear and anticipation. “Is that the empire? Are they here? They got here so quick!”

 

Pidge looked at where the chariot was, in flames, and the trees nearby (about 30 ft away) were also on fire. Along with the grass. And a person or maybe a dryad. Well, something is screaming very loudly.

 

“No, those explosions were a distraction,” Pidge looked through the binoculars and narrowed his eyes.“For him.”

 

Pidge hand him the binoculars and started talking but Lance stopped listening when his eyes focused on an irritatingly similar tall and muscular body, with a red jacket that is bizarrely short, and the .... he has a mullet. Fuck, it’s this bitch again.

 

Lance threw the binoculars at Pidge as he growled, “No way! Oh, he is not going to beat us in there! That guy is always trying to one-up me!”He started climbing down the rocks.

 

“Who is it?” Hunk yelled from the top of the rocks.

 

“Keith!”

 

“Who?” Pidge yelled, starting to scale the rocks.

 

“Are you sure?” Hunk sounded incredulous, and Lance heard the moving of small stones. Hunk’s probably heading down now.

 

Lance leapt off the rocks and started running as fast as his long legs couple carry him. “Oh, I'd recognize that mullet anywhere!”

 

Pidge ran beside him. “Who's Keith?”

 

Lance ignored him and raced to the chariot. He saw that Keith had knocked out the legionnaires (not surprising since he was the best fighter when he was still at Camp Jupiter) and now was holding Shiro up by one arm. Well, Lance isn't going to let him be Shiro’s only savior.

 

Lance started walking over. Keith paused in his motions and stared at him. “Nope. No, you - No, no, no. No, you don't.”He slung Shiro’s other arm over his shoulder.“I'm saving Shiro.”

 

Keith’s eyes scanned Lance’s face, darting quickly to his eyes when Lance declared he was saving Shiro. What did he expect from Keith, complete eye contact? Keith’s eyebrow was raised when he asked, “Who are you?”

 

“Who am I?” Lance looked at Keith with utter disbelief. Time seemed to stand still, or at least meander around Lance, Keith and Shiro. “Uh, the name's Lance. We were both in Camp Jupiter? We both applied to the Pegasus pilots?.”

 

The purples eyes widened, his face soft. Lance raised his eyebrow at Keith. What on earth is going through his head, Lance thought. Keith’s voice was a bit croaky when he said,“Really? Were you in the third cohort?”

 

“No, I'm in the fifth! We were like rivals.”He leaned in closer, eye to eye. Well tried, Keith’s eyes were still scanning him up and down. Lance rolled his eyes. Keith was probably trying to see if he was giving off any tells. “You know, Lance and Keith, neck and neck.”

 

Keith’s face gained some sort of recognition. “Ooooh, wait. I remember you. You're a Probatio, right?”

 

Lance’s face fell and his jaw dropped ”Keith, I had been at camp for five years when you first got to the camp.”

 

Keith face paled, and he looked away for a second. “I’m sorry, I’m pretty bad with faces.”

 

“Well, I guess that’s not exactly surprising since you only talked to Shiro for the most part. But whatever.” Lance shrugged, Shiro grunted, and then Lance stopped doing that. Shiro looked like he needed all the rest he could get. Which Lance is starting to get a sneaking suspicion that Shiro wouldn't get much in the future. “Doesn't matter much now. By the way: since when you ran away, I got your spot.”

 

Keith rolled his eyes. “Congrats.”

 

“Don't mean to break up the sweet reunion but oh, man. They're coming back, and they do not look happy. We've got to go. Before we’re spotted.”Hunk said, staring away from both Keith and Lance. He was awkwardly fidgeting. Pidge stared at Keith with both a confused and an unimpressed expression. What’s that face for?

 

Just after Hunk spoke, they heard some people yelling about teenagers and a fire. Hunk turned back to them. “Never mind, they've seen us.” He motioned at the motorcycle that Keith and Lance were walking to and then looked at Keith with puppy eyes. “Uh, do you mind if we catch a ride with you?”

 

Keith blinked and then shrugged.

 

Both Pidge and Hunk climbed into the sidecar, and grunted when Keith laid Shiro on top of him.

 

“Is this thing going to be big enough for all of us?” Pidge asked underneath the weight of a 25 year old man with a metal arm. Keith climbed on the bike and revved the engine.

 

“No.” Keith said. He paused and looked at Lance. “Sit behind me.”

 

“Why?” Lance squawked. He heard Pidge ask why he was the one directly under Shiro.

 

Keith rolled his eyes. His face was red, though that was probably from carrying Shiro. “Do you want to be found by Iverson?”

 

“Not particularly!” Hunk yelled underneath the people pile.

 

“Fine.” Lance huffed before he clambered over the three lumps of humans know as Shiro, Pidge, and Hunk.

 

He lightly wrapped his arms around Keith, then had to cling to him as he felt himself rocket forward. He shut his eyes real tight for a second before opening his eyes to see the world blurring past him in waves of purple. The motorcycle was enchanted. Of course it was.

 

Hunk laughed hysterically and then yelled. “We did all fit!”

 

Lance looked back and saw the officers following in jeeps, holding spears and other missiles. They're gaining on them. Fuck. “Can't this thing go any faster?” He asked Keith, panicking.

 

Keith shrugged, leaning forward. “Only if you plan on jumping off.”

 

“Rude.” Lance said. He then expressed frustration in the only way that would be slightly similar to a punch in the shoulder and wouldn't distract Keith. By squeezing him. And he was met with the bike squirming a bit. “Dude, you've got precious cargo on board. Be more careful.”

 

“That’s thinking pretty high of yourself. Big man, lean back.”

 

“I was talking about Shiro; you utter piece of shiAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!” Everyone but Keith screamed as they found themselves spinning into the traffic of San Francisco. How the fuck.

 

“How the hell!” Lance yelled at first, whipping his head around to see if the Officers were still behind them. They weren't, there was a big car wreck, though. That might be them.

 

“Wait, was that jeep Harris’?” Hunk asked hysterically as he twisted his body slightly.

 

“Don’t know. Pidge, can hand me your binoculars?”

 

“No since my small ass body is crushed over here.” Pidge snarked at him but Lance wasn't paying attention to him. He saw a huge black dog-shaped thing emerge out of traffic, jumping over a taxi. There was a car alarm blaring. It’s eyes were glowing purple and as it charged, it howled and it sounded like a wolf’s howl. But if that wolf had decided to become a cross between a living glitch and a stock horror movie character.

 

“HOLY SHIT!!! KEITH, GO FASTER!!!”Lance screamed and squeezed Keith tighter.

 

“I really can’t Lance.” Keith grunted as they cut a honda to the fast lane.

 

“WELL FIND A WAY, THERES A FUCKING HELLHOUND!!!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aight this is the start of the big thing. Also, please remeber that as a fan fic writer I live off comments so send more in (งツ)ว


	4. A weeb saves us from Cujo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance realizes that he's been spacing out a lot between chapters and his internal voice has changed a lot. Also that Keith talks a lot more than he remebered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um, sorry for the wait. between school, friend angst, relizing i have adhd, and a lot of other things, I havent written much. 
> 
> So here are some fun tidbits of the story that should be noted:  
> -I feel like I spent too much time on the banter between Lance and Keith, but bantering the best ??? so I'm conflicted.  
> -I refuse not to make fun of anything  
> -I havent watched voltron lately, so my inner voice for lance is WAY snarker than need be
> 
> please comment and tell me what you think!!!!!!

“We’re gonna die! Holy fudge we’re gonna die!” Hunk screeched as he hugged both Pidge and Shiro to his chest.

   


“Not necessarily.” Keith said, with an unseen smirk in his voice, and revved the engine. “Hold on tight Lance.” 

   


Lance was about to ask what the fuck Keith meant by that, Keith started weaving around cars faster and faster. The purple mist wrapping around the motorcycle became thinner and cars started blurring around. Lance could barely tell them apart to a certain point. 

   


Hunk started groaning from car (motorcycle? travel?) sickness, “Gods, can we please slow down I feel like I’m gonna, oh Jupiter... I te le lagonaina lelei”.

   


Lance winced. “God, I know you feel bad, but did you need to use  _that_ phrasing?”

   


Keith gave no indication that he heard Hunk or Lance but stopped weaving as much. Almost everyone sighed in relief, except Keith and Shiro since one was an ass and the other was unconscious. But then they started advancing on a speeding pickup truck with a fringing laying in it. 

   


Lance gripped Keith’s waist harder and yelled into Keith’s back, bracing for impact. “Keith, don't do it!!”

   


“What’s he going to do?” Hunk yelled, fear clear in his voice.

   


Hunk found out exactly what soon enough. Keith did the exact opposite of what Lance had screeched and hopped the Motorcycle onto the pick-up, using the fridge lying at around a 80 degree angle from the bottom of the truck to propel them like some sort of Tony hawk nonsense. 

   


Lance felt his air get drawn out of him as time slowed down, everyone was shrieking (except the asshole and unconscious Shiro), and his vision over Keith shoulder was a Hollywood worthy shot of the freeway that was tinted with light violet, like that one T-Mobile ad lady with the motorcycle. 

   


Lance wondered faintly (and uncharacteristically serenely) why his mind was thinking of that as analogy when his felt completely out of his mind with adrenaline.

   


Eventually the motorcycle fell with a thump, a skid, and a hop. Lance looked back and realized that Keith’s batshit maneuvers had effectively flung them at least 30 minutes ahead of Los Angeles traffic. 

   


Keith abruptly turned off the closest exit and Lance stopped screaming. 

   


“Keith why?” Hunk whined queasily beneath Pidge and Shiro. “We could have died!”

   


Keith shrugged. “It was the easiest way.”

   


“There is no way that that was the easiest way to do go faster.” Pidge snarked under Shiro. “If I wasn't stuck under Captain America’s body double, I could have easily done something better and lost the demon dog quicker.”

   


Keith laughed sarcastically at Pidge’s comment. “If you honestly think that I would have let you drive Tailor, then you are very much mistaken.”

   


Pidge was silent for a tic before asking incredulously. “What, are you a Taylor swift Stan?” 

   


“Whose Taylor swift?” Keith asked.

   


“We are going to pretend that Keith didn't live under a rock and change the topic.” Lance loosened his arms from Keith’s waist and pulled back angrily. “Dude, you could have at least warned us what you were going to do.”

   


“Well you figured it out.” Keith said nonchalantly, like he hadn't just done a “don't do this at home kids” type of stunt. 

   


“Well that’s because I’m used to your impulsive tactics, they aren't.” Lance snarked back. “You’re the one who always strayed from your rank in War games without telling people.” 

   


Pidge gasped like the little dramatic gremlin he is. Lance could easily imagine his hand covering his mouth, if only Pidge wasn't being smothered by Shiro, then he could fulfill his anime aspirations. “Wait, _he’s_ the asshole you keep ranting about at dinner?” 

Never mind Pidge can go die.

   


Before Lance could say anything, Hunk said “Yeah, Keith always was breaking the rules and running off. Lance figured out Keith’s plans after a couple of minutes, but then we always go like sprayed by the water cannons and then I would be all like-” 

   


Hunk stopped himself in time to not give away Lance’s identity but not quickly enough not to get Lance’s wrath in the future, but that would probably be a gentle punch in the arm. 

   


“I’m rambling. What I was trying to say is that Keith used to go Lone wolf a lot when he went to camp.” Hunk added.

   


Keith kept speeding through the city for a couple of minutes in silence. Which was nice, if not awkward.

   


But that silence was broken by the Hellhound and its Plutonian damned screams. 

   


“How the fuck did it get this close?” Pidge screamed from the back, which was acceptable. Before Pidge went to Camp Jupiter, he had never seen a monster, so his knowledge was what Lance had told him about. And Lance had never encountered a Hellhound before.

   


“Shadow travel.” Hunk answered, the fear back in his voice. Hunk had been afraid of things involving the underworld ever since the Ambassador of Pluto had visited last. Hunk swore that his eyes were cursed ever since then. But Lance can’t really blame him, dead things are scary.

   


Lance took his hands off Keith’s waist and unslung his bow. “Mullet, slow down a bit.”

   


“What the- Lance, it’s right behind us!” Keith growled.

   


“Trust me.”

   


“No way in Tartarus!” But despite Keith yelling at him, he slowed down a small amount.

   


But that miniscule amount was enough for Lance to flip around and notch an arrow in his bow. He aimed, and the arrow rushed out eagerly to meet the dense black fur of the Hellhound and taste it’s Tartarus damned blood. 

   


It howled in pain and slowed down a bit. But not enough, since Hell Hounds are stubborn enough without an arrow in its front limb AND CAN EAT LANCE’S ENTIRE ASS. Lance aimed and launched another arrow that flew with the same anticipation, but because of a speed bump, it got the Hell hound’s back not the eyes. 

   


Lance elbows Keith as he tried to ignore the monster’s screams of pain. “Be more careful, Hot head!”

   


“Not my fault!” Keith growled and suddenly jerks the bike to Lance’s right, and Lance find himself clinging to the leather seat, with the arrow he was about to send out broken against the magical wheels of the motorcycle.

   


“Give a guy a warning!”

   


“Not enough time.” Keith growled, and Lance felt even more of Keith’s back leave his, probably to look angsty and lean into the motorcycle handlebars. “Or have all of you conveniently forgotten that we have a Hellhound behind us?”

   


“Am I the only one feeling a sense of Deja Vu?” Pidge snarked and Lance would high-five him if Lance weren't currently discarding a now USELESS arrow and arrow head to the tires which seemed to burn up in the center of the wheel. 

   


Hunk hummed in agreement. “Yeah, he keeps saying the same couple of lines.” 

   


“That’s because Hair-For-Brains here has a couple screws loose.” Lance gripped and then almost met his fate to the center of the wheels when the bike started to bounce up and down. Lance stabilized himself enough to looks around and, sure enough, Keith is driving them up a shit ton of stairs.

   


“I can’t aim with this shit.” Lance yelled. 

   


Hunk looked up him with an eyebrow raised in disbelief with Pidge doing the same. “Dude we both know that you can-”

   


Lance interrupted the angel known as Hunk to yell over his quiver at Keith. “For the love of all the gods, please DRIVE ON SOMETHING BESIDES THESE JUPITER DAMNED STAIRS!”

   


“Maybe I’m trying to get you to fall off and leave me alone.” Keith said with an audible smirk. 

   


Well, fuck Keith then. Lance sat himself up and centered himself. 

   


Pidge planted his face in his palm and groaned. “Why did you have to say that.” 

   


Hunk looked nervously at Lance. 

   


Lance probably had the same face that he had when Jimmy the asshole from the second Cohort betted him 10 dollars that he couldn't get 20 bullseyes.

   


He had aimed and fired. The arrow flew and hit the first bullseye. And he sent another arrow, only pausing to aim at the next target. The arrow hit the target. And again. And again. And again. And again. And Lance had won that 10 bucks and Hunk had gotten bragging rights for a week for being right.

   


Which is what he did now. He knocked arrow after arrow after arrow. He grabbed at random, sometime grabbing magical arrows including one that makes a net on impact but that got only slowed down the Hellhound by seconds. 

   


Distantly he hears mortals screaming at him to stop shooting at ‘the dog’. But hey, mortals see what they see. It's not like he could yell at them that the ‘dog’ that were so concerned about was a MONSTER that technically doesn't belong to any culture/myths and that he’s not TECHNICALLY killing it since THEY DON'T DIE.

   


He eventually he grabbed the arrow with the golden inlay. He smirked, feeling the special quill that he put in there, so he wouldn't waste it on target practice. “Keith, in ten seconds put your pedal to the metal like your life depended on it.”

   


“Wait why?” Keith yelled, and Hunk’s eyes widened. Lance smirked back, yeah time for patented awesome Lancey Lance time. Pidged groaned as if he could hear Lance’s cool nickname.

   


“Again, trust me. I’m the long distance one after all.” He then aimed, fired and when it hit the beast, it was swallowed by Greek (or Roman in this case) flames and it’s screaming got even more horse. The leg that had an arrow in it got caught in a pothole in the Hell hound’s confusion and it was stuck for at least 20 seconds before continuing, but that bought Keith enough time to slam on the acceleration and go 100 on 50. 

   


Lance was pretty sure one of the mortals were yelling at someone to call the police. And at least two were filming them, oh well it's not like they’ll see what's happening.

   


The Hellhound was six blocks behind them at that point. 

   


“BOOYAH!!! SUCK IT MULLET!!” Lance yelled, throwing his arms over his head joyously. He swung his body around. He loosely wrapped his arms around Keith. 

   


“I thought you, and I quote, ‘can’t aim with this shit’. Looks like you did just fine, even with the stairs.” Keith snarked but it sounded almost fond, but that’s probably Lance’s projection. 

   


“Clearly it was because you scared me with FLYING OFF A PICKUP TRUCK LIKE SOME SORT OF CRAZY MAN!” Lance threw his head back in agitation and sighed with annoyance at the sound of police sirens, oh god this got infinitely more difficult. 

   


“For the love of Mars, can you not yell for one second?” Keith shouted, speeding up. 

   


The Hellhound was gaining speed in the mirror. While the sticker that said objects were larger in the mirror was sort of comforting, the Hell hound was getting too close for the comfort of the mirror to linger. Lance looked away. Between the neon purple of the bike, the Hellhound, and the lights from the police sirens, he was starting to get a headache 

   


“I can't really help it, ya’know. Adhd and lack of volume control comes with the Demigod package.” Lance said as Keith started approaching a metal door propped next to a car. “Hold on tight folks, Keithy boy’s pulling another ramp.”

   


“Oh, you’re a demigod, I thought you were a legacy.” Keith said distantly, flying through the street. “Wasn't paying attention.”

   


Lance felt the same impulsive anger rush through his veins that Mars gave him back in the pavilion. 

   


Like father, like son, he thought. But he couldn't make that thought into words because the Hellhound had caught up to the bike, and Lance found himself flung off the bike as it spun on its side. 

   


The cement bit his hands and knees, bringing them to bleed and to ache. Lance felt a pulse of pain. “Shit!”

   


Hunk screamed, Keith grunted, Pidge swore, and Shiro made a noise but gave no indication of rising from his coma.

   


He felt something under his feet pulse, but he pushed the urge down, pushed himself off the ground in to the battle stance, and whipped out the gladius from its sheath. But unlike Keith, at the center of the fight  _as always_ , he decided to assess the situation.

   


The Hellhound was badly burned, and if this were a rpg it would only have about 3 hit points. It wasn't giving up without a fight lunging at Keith and Pidge, howling all the while.

   


Keith had his gladius out like a good roman, aiming for its eyes, and keeping it on its toes. It snarled at him. Its infernal mouth opened vertically, and tried to snag him in its mountainous teeth, brilliantly white and jagged teeth against a wide purple mouth. Keith dodged, the teeth only catching his armor and the teeth created sparks as it slid against the metal.

   


Pidge was ducking its legs and claws, spotting its weak points and quickly pointing them out to Keith. He wasn't armed or clad in armor, so he was less ambitious in fighting. He had some rope between his hands, Lance is sure what Pidge’s gonna do with that. He mentally shrugged, Pidge is a smart cookie. He’ll figure it out.

   


He looked back at the bike, with Hunk and Shiro.

   


Hunk had the bike upright and was starting to work his magic on it. The fire was dull at the moment, but it was there all the same.

   


Shiro was still passed out in the sidecar, his limbs outside it like it were some sort of portable hot tub. Drool dripped out of his mouth.

   


A human scream brought Lance’s attention back to the fray like a string being pulled taught.

A random person was screaming and bludgeoning the hellhound with a wooden baseball bat. 

   
   
   
   


What on earth.

   
   
   
   


Everyone just froze as this tall black-haired man in green frog onesies over red Heelys, was just whaling on the Hellhound. Even the Hellhound seem to be confused at the shrill war cry that came out of this strange man’s throat.

   


But then the hellhound erupted into golden monster dust. The man bat went straight through it as it disintegrated and made a thump against the ground. 

   


The man held the pose, hunched over the golden dust for a couple minutes, gasping, before he whipped his head up towards all three of them. “What the fuck was that thing?”

   


“A hellhound.”

   


The guy’s head jerked over to Keith and his eyes widened. “A WHAT?”

   


“What Mullet means,” Lance rolled his eyes, brushed off his pants with his free hand, and walked toward the man, Keith, and Pidge. “Is that was a monster that’s called a Hellhound. They are dangerous to all except Pluto’s kids, and usually look more dog-like than this. Can you offer your hand please? I want to find out if you're like us and in constant danger or just different from the rest of the people in this world.”

   


“Uh sure dude.” The odd guy held out his hand, which Lance held briefly in his hand before attempting to lightly stab the appendage and thankfully all that happened was that it fell through the man’s hand and gave Lance a papercut. 

   


The guy jerked his hand out of Lance’s and looked at him with such concern that it could be cut with the gladius. “What the fuck was that?”

   


“ _That_ , my very fashion forward friend, was a knife made of Imperial gold. Weapons made of the stuff doesn't hurt ordinary people, but it affects gods, half-gods, and monsters. Sorry by the way, that was probably pretty scary.” He added the apology as an afterthought and re-sheathed the gladius. 

   


“It was, and I wasn't even the one being stabbed.” Hunk shouted at them. “You need to give people more warning before you do stuff like that. And give me time to grab some water and a band aid.”

   


“And I apologize to you too, my closest and most squeamish friend. I forgot about the only responsible one among us. But back on topic. It fortunately means that you, my new friend wielding the bat, aren't one of us and won't  _have_  to fight a mythical monster ever again. Unfortunately, it means that you’ll be seeing this your entire life.” Lance smiled. 

   


He turned his back to group and started walking back to Hunk. “Thanks for the help random guy, but we've got to get going, right  _Keith_?” He looked over at Keith, seeing him staring Lance with wide eyes. 

   


Keith looked away for some weird reason and frowned. He sighed in exasperation, Keith is such a drama queen. “Yeah Lance, come on guys.” Keith agreed, which was ooc but Lance was willing to ignore it.

   


“Wait come on, you can't just drop something like that and walk away. Can I get your number or something, so you can tell me later?”

   


Pidge made a dismissive noise. “Nah, demigods can’t use regular electronics, or we get instantly targeted by monsters. We’re probably better off just riding off into the sunset. Kind of dangerous to stay here for a long time, don't know what will catch our scent.”

   


“You could always stay at my house, it’s like 11:30 or something and you all look like you're like 16, except for the blondie who is clearly in middle school.” The guy said.

   


Lance turned back to their mortal savior and started actively ignoring Pidge’s high-pitched screaming about being ‘15 dammit, it's not my fault my dad gave me the genes that gave me a damn baby face and squeaky voice’. "Dude, as much as I would enjoy a house for like, 12 hours, there are two things stopping that. Stranger danger and ... something that I forgot. Oh right, you look like you are 25. A 25 with a gaggle of teenagers doesn't really bode well, don't you think?”

   


“Lance, we don't have cash or money. Let's explain, sleep, eat, and then hit the road. And besides we don't know if the injection and the travel will or won’t cause Shiro to have any really serious side effects that we can’t help with ambrosia or nectar. What happens if he wakes up while we’re going at 350 on I-90?”

   


“I don't think that it-” Lance yelled back at Hunk, the voice of reason.

   


“I’ve never tested it, it could go that fast.” Keith said, mind full of dangerous possibilities.

   


“Hunk has a point” Pidge pointed out. “I’m not sure about biker dude, but I’ve been away for at least 20ish hours. I’ll like to sleep under a roof and with ac, two things that aren't in Motorcycles.”

   


Lance threw up his hands in surrender. “Fine, we’ll sleep in this random guy's house!”

   


So, Lance, Hunk (and Shiro because no one else was strong enough to carry that dude out on their own), Pidge, Keith, and the new guy went across the street, up several flights of stairs (there should be light weight armor, Lance complained after the fourteenth set, this can't be healthy to teenagers), and into a small apartment covered with anime merch. Why. 

“So, introductions are in order,” Hunk said after sitting himself down at the table near the kitchen. “I’m Hunk, the guy who kind of tried to stab you and attitude seems to change on a dime is Lance, the one who’s shorter than all of us and with glasses is Pidge, the one who's knocked out is Shiro (don't ask it's hard to explain and we don't know the details), and the one with a knife and a leather jacket is Keith. Who are you?”

   


“I’m Elias busald.” The man, now Elias, nodded at Hunk. “It’s nice to meet you. Now, if you could explain what’s going on that would be nice.”

   


Hunk smiled. "Get comfortable cause this is a really, really long story that begins with the craziest thing you will ever hear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side notes  
> -Hunk says "I dont feel so good" in samoan, which makes Lance a little uncomftorable since 1) infinity war sucked and was bad fanfiction as far as i'm concerned 2) Hunk looks kind of like Ned leeds . I used google translate and if anyone wants to correct me, go ahead. I will change it.  
> -My memory will always have space for the T-Mobile lady speeding through Phoneix on a motorcycle  
> -guess why Keith named his bike Tailor. I dare you.  
> -my mental image of Elias is a cross between Genji (ow), Lucio (again ow), and Deku (bnha)
> 
> please comment and tell me what you think!!!!


	5. You know that part of a tv show episode that does a recap of the last few plot points? Well this is that.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance and everyone (minus Shiro because he's still be knocked out) talk about impotant parts of this au, Bad dream times, and soda metaphors.

The apartment was silent for a while the others were staring at Elias as he seemed to be processing the information. Finally, the guy blinked and raised an eyebrow.  

 

“So, what you're saying is that you guys are all children of the Greek-”    
 

“Roman.” Keith interjected boredly as he used one of Elias’s purple dishcloths to polish his knife while sitting on the kitchen counter. There has to be a better phrase than that because that sounded gross. Lance turned away from him to put that thought out of his head.   
 

Elias rolled his eyes at Keith (big mood) and continued.  “Whatever, they’re basically the same-”  

“Actually there are a lot of differences.” Pidge butted in like the tiny nerd he was. 

 

Elias sighed and put his face in his palms before looking at them all like he had to run from the mutant purple accented hellhound instead of beating it to death. That is to say, he looked exhausted, annoyed by his piss poor luck, and really fucking done.   
 

“Probably but I don’t really care about that. I care that teenagers everywhere meet a talking wolf and end up in Cult like summer camps that teach them to fight so that the monsters can’t kill them and that they barely have contact with the outside world because any kind of electronics that access the internet or whatever is Monster Sonar.”  

 

Lance, Hunk, Pidge, and Jackass (just guess) were quiet. Lance had never really thought of it that way.    
 

Usually when newbies came to camp they’ve already accepted their fate as a demi human who will die in their late twenties or early forties. And Lance was about 4 when Lupa had found him and his family playing in Florida on vacation. So, he can’t really solidly remember a time that wasn’t submerged in the modern era roman empire.   
 

Hell, his immediate family had moved to California from  _Cuba_  because that was the only place that lance was safe from the monsters that hunted half-bloods. Veronica, his older sister by three years, had mastered three different forms of martial arts that required a sword and/or dagger before she had got accepted into a university. His younger siblings were about to get their first real sword, imperial gold (which was safe for mortals since the metal could only harm monsters, gods, and demigods). Luis claimed to see an opening in the backyard, got lost for two days, and then came back with a trophy of war that looked like it came from a Drakon that was straight out of the Chamber of secrets.  

 

His family was mortal, but they could see through the mist the way that few could 

 

Hunk shrugged and nodded. “I mean, he’s not wrong.”  

 

The silence was way shorter than his long paragraphs of imply. Lance just thinks quickly. 

 

Elias frowns and comes to a related but good point. “And speaking of the teen wolf Latin cult, what on earth is with the demigod shit? Why is there so much like, dyslexia and adhd? What’s up with that?”    
 

Lance smiles lazily, this was the perfect time to do the explain-y bits in a way that Hunk can’t get.   
 

“As someone with both and who whines around adults with no sense of humor, I can summarize,” Lance raised his hand slightly and smirked at Keith’s raised eyebrow, Pidge’s eyeroll, Hunk’s understanding nod, and Elias hand movement that was like, ‘continue talking you whiny, whiny, talkative little man’. And that’s what Lance did.   
 

At first he imitated Iverson when he did it, because fuck Iverson, but switched to his normal voice halfway through. “Your body was made to fight to the death and your head isn't meant to read english because it’s not Latin. It’s an evil spawn of west Germanic and like to mug other languages in dark metaphorical alleys, especially shit from Latin. Therefore I like Spanish. Nice romance language.” 

 

Elias sucked his teeth in sympathy. “That shit suck my dude. Also, what the hell are you guys.”   
 

“We told you. We’re demigods.” Keith said blankly.   
 

Elias sighed again and started over. “No. I got that but- what’s a good way of put it, um... Who exactly is your godly parent? Is it okay to ask?”   
 

Hunk smiled awkwardly. “It’s fine, we’re just not used to having to like... say it.”   
 

Elias tilted his head at Hunk and furrowed his brow. “Why?”    
 

Hunk crossed his arms and bit his lip in a way that looked to Lance like a mixed and tossed emotion salad. He rocked back on his heels and glanced at the darkness outside the apartment window, gathering his thoughts before turning his head back to Elias and said softly:   
 

“Because people have a good habit of figuring it out and don’t ask questions.”  

 

“Or they make stupid assumptions and you have to kick someone’s ass and then they stop asking people and making an ass out of themselves.” Pidge piped in, making the tension untie itself slightly. 

 

Hunk’s lips flashed a closed lip smile in the same time that it took him to huff a little. He looked at Pidge with amusement that tinged his voice like a washed-out tie dye shirt. “I mean yeah but you are like, a curveball.”    
 

Pidge shrugged and nodded with acceptance of his oddball status.   
 

Elias’ smile was strained as he said, “I like the bantering but, hey, please answer my original question.”    
 

“Should Hunk do introductions again or should we do a sharing circle.” Pidge snarked with a catlike grin.   
 

Lance fought that instinct of a grimace that rose to his face and molded it into a carefree half smile. “I vote sharing circle because you know what they say about assumptions.”  

 

“I don’t.” Keith sounded like his frowned and his brow fucking furrowed as he said it kind of monotonically. How does he sound like that? Well Keith sounds like the kind of confused that a kid gets when there’s a concept mentioned that they don't get, like idioms and semi-common sayings. 

 

Lance huffed and waved his hand in Keith’s direction. “You don’t count Keith.”  

 

“What-” 

 

“We’re not starting this again!” Hunk said loudly and interrupted Keith’s low growl.    
 

Hunk’s face was lined with exhausted frustration that deepened winkles and shadows across his soft and round face (likely from the motorcycle chase and all of the shouting that happened then). When Keith’s word were swept out from underneath him, Hunk tilted his face at Lance and gave a tight smile that was clearly ‘I love you but please can it, other people need to talk’. 

 

“Sorry Hunk.” Lance said with a strained shamed smile.   
 

Hunk accepted his apology with a nod and then waved his hand at Keith. “Thank you. Now Keith, introduce yourself.”   
 

Keith huffed, and Lance could almost  _hear_  Keith cross his arm and roll his eyes. “Son of Mar, god of war. Also known as Ares.” 

 

“His dad is also the god of gardening.” Lance added and hammered his sour expression and his sneer into a cocky grin.   
 

Lance could just imagine Keith’s hackles silently going up.  

 

Keith growled, and Lance could just picture his arms were still crossed. Probably tighter to show how Lance was so annoying. He wouldn't be the first be call Lance a stupid annoying asshole. “Shut up Lance.”   
 

“Since Shiro is unconscious and Keith isn't stepping up to the plate, I guess that you should know that Shiro is the son of Jupiter, the god of the heavens and justice. Greek version of Jupiter is Zeus. But you know that.” Hunk said, effectively shutting down the banter between Keith and Lance.   
 

“What, don’t you have a snarky comment about Shiro too?” Keith snapped at him from where Lance couldn't see.   
 

Apparently, Keith didn't get the Hunk cease and desist memo/aura. And while on other occasions, Lance would have respected the cease and desist from Hunk, it was keith. And Lance was never one to not retaliate. 

 

“Fuck no, mullet. Shiro is-” 

 

Hunk sighed, and face palmed before giving both of them a sharp look. “Both of you. Stop.” 

 

“Keith started it.” Lance said indignantly, well aware how childish he sounded.  

 

Hunk raised an eyebrow while the rest of the face was cold and not normal. His face said, ‘I’m unimpressed and kind of tired of you two, I love you but stop’. “I saw, I understand, and yet I don’t care.”    
 

Lance grinned despite himself. “Oooh savage.”   
 

Hunk rolled his eyes, but there was a slight quirk to his lips. A hidden smile. He huffed and turned his head to Pidge. “Anyway, Pidge?”    
 

Pidge looked away for a second before giving a very unusual smile. “Son of Ceres , goddess of the harvest. Greek version is Demeter.”   
 

Lance looked at Pidge’s slightly defensive and evasive pose. He looked like he was forcing his spine to relax. That was weird. Lance opened his mouth to say something.   
 

But Hunk interrupted that motion. “Don’t even think of saying a word you two.” 

 

Lance looked at Hunk and narrowed his eyes. “.... supercalifragilisticexpialidocious.” 

 

Hunk narrowed his eyes. “What did I say?” 

 

Lance laughed and threw his head back before he looked at Hunk. His smile of fake annoyance was making his cheeks ache. “Oh, I see. Two weeks ago, playing Scrabble, it’s not a word and now suddenly it is a word because it’s convenient for you!?” 

 

“Hunk?”   
 

Hunk turned back to Elias who was leaning back on a chair. “Yes?” 

 

Elias made a tired face and gestured at Hunk. “What about you?” 

 

Hunk grinned sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. “Oh yeah, forgot about that for a second. Son of Vulcan, god of blacksmithery and all thing fire related. And no real connection to the star trek alien, unless you count how hot their planet is. And the Greek version of my dad is Hephaestus”   
 

Elias nodded and then slightly turned his head in Lance’s direction. “And you, Lance?”   
 

Lance grinned around the thick swallow and he was almost sure that his voice didn't sound shifty. His back probably would have stiffer than Pidge’s had been, if he hadn’t been practicing his lines for four years.  

 

“Son of Palaemon, helpful sea god who liked to help sailors. I just have the Greek version because he didn’t get a roman version in the culture swap. Romans don’t like water as much as the Greeks.  And they don’t like Greeks either. So I’m also Greek, which makes me even more of a freak.”   
 

Elias nodded, and his eyes rose to the ceiling while he seemed to think it through. “Cool... It’s kind of weird that you're the only one who doesn't have a name that’s like easily recognizable.” 

 

“Yeah, being a kid of a minor deity isn’t that rad when you sit next to the people in the main pantheon. It is how it is.” Lance said around the lie and shifted awkwardly out of his too fake but too real inferiority complex.   
 

“Wait what powers do you have then?” Pidge asked and looked suspicious. “I’ve never heard of that god before, so what kind of abilities would you gain from his domain? How would you be able to be his kid since he’s a minor god and those don’t really survive the test of time and when people stop believing/worshipping them. ”   
 

Lance shifted more, unused to this attention. Usually people heard ‘minor god’ and decided that the rest of the stuff was unnecessary. This might be a little harder than he thought.    
 

He forced his eyes to connect to Pidge’s. He couldn’t afford to seem anything but honest. Especially in front of Keith, who might be dense when it comes to almost everything else but could figure out when someone was lying to.   
 

“I have some weak hydro kinesis but that’s it. And Salacia and Triton have survived despite only being related to Neptune, so maybe he could have survived in other ways.” 

 

The air was thick with tension. Pidge’s brows were narrowed as he puzzled through Lance’s statement, Keith didn’t say anything, and Lance was not turning around to see his expression, Hunk was biting his lip and looking like he was holding his breath, and Elias was sitting there with his eyes wide with awkwardness and indecision. 

 

In the end it was Elias who broke the silence. “Uhhhh I guess, who wants- what the hell is the time? 12 am? Okay, who wants brinner?” 

   
 

* * *

 

   
 

Lance was in another funky dream. But hey, all demigod dreams are like this.  It’s not like they can have normal weird dreams where their class has an evil teacher who won't let them leave the door, so they made a portal. They have to have out of context things about the past, present, and future. 

 

And it wasn’t like Lance could establish a regular, relaxing routine before bedtime; get reassurance; talk about his dreams and rewrite the ending; or use a night light to get rid of them. That’s what Mama had tried from every mommy blog she could find.   
 

But he was stuck with his weird and unsettling nightmares.   
 

He was on his knees, shackled and blood was dripping from his crown. He was in handcuffs and his forehead was bleeding. Oh, why does everything including his personal dialogue have to be full dramatics. Well more than usual. And it was whoever he was taking the place of, not actually him. Ugggggggghhhhhh.   
 

Not the point here.   
 

The point was that he was in a beautiful home, or what would have been a beautiful atique home from the 1940’s if it hadn’t been stormed by an army. The furniture was all over the place and there was blood on the upholstery. In other words, it was a sight to behold.   
 

He raised his head to a tall man whose eye were almost completely golden and glowing. “Zack, why. Why did you do this. What happened.” 

 

“I am no longer Zack, you should know this son of Poseidon.” 

 

Lance would have flinched. But his body wasn’t his. 

 

Lance distantly felt tears fall down his face. Whoever he was had some deep connect with this evil, evil man who looked like ‘Zack’.  “No, you have to be in there Zack! You have to stop this! You have to break free.”   
 

The demon (or whatever) possessing ‘Zack’ grinned at him and that insane grin looked less like a proud and creepy smile and more like some primordial inhuman being bearing it’s too-blunt teeth. Lance felt shivers down his spine as a low chuckle came out of the man who was once ‘Zack’. “Oh no, boy. I took nothing he didn’t already give me. He and his wife came to me with open arms. And so, shall you.”   
 

The air smelled of Ozone and the dream changed. He was himself and in front of a pit. Around him there were whispers of things he knew. 

 

“You’re useless.”   
 

“Everyone would be better off without you.” 

 

“You and your sea salt skin would be better off giving in.”   
 

And he felt his body fall in front of the pit. He felt weak with fear, sadness, and the simple feeling of lacking. He covered his ears to escape them, but it was no use. They kept telling him things that he had always thought but had pushed away.   
 

He curled into a fetal position and started sobbing. The voice grew louder and louder. 

 

His wrists were grabbed from his head and he was lifted off the ground. He looked at who had grabbed him and found angry women who had bodies as black as coal and faces made of smoke that contorted to look somewhat like fighting dogs which were interrupted by their blood red eyes and their snakes writhing in a way that almost looked like hair.    
 

He heard the flapping of wings and angry accusations and he felt them let go and he fell.   
 

Into the pit.   
 

He felt his skin tear itself apart, aided by clawed hands. And a voice. A low, quiet, and scary voice that sounded like a calmer version of ‘Zack’ that said “you’ve finally arrived, child of -” 

 

Lance accidentally interrupted the dream villain in the pit monologue by waking up. 

 

He sat up from the couch and breathed. He didn't feel like he could. He could still feel the furies and their claws in his skin as it dripped. He knew, logically, that it was sweat. But he kept looking down, expecting to see blood and claw marks. 

 

He needed a shower. 

   
He was about to get up to use the bathroom when he felt couch shift and another body rise from a horizontal position on the couch. 

 

He and Pidge had agreed to take the pull-out couch because they both had siblings, were skinny, and very tired.    
 

That led to them figuring out who got what and then sleep. And now Lance has Pidge staring like he can’t blink. “Can't sleep?” 

 

Lance nodded but said nothing.   
 

“Dreams?” Pidge asked.   
 

Lance hummed for a second. “Yeah, you?”   
 

Pidge shrugged. “Kind of. Wanna trade?”   
 

Lance snorted. 

 

“Well aren’t you Mister chatty.”   
 

Pidge groaned. “Oh, come on, what’s wrong now.” 

 

“I guess it’s that you don’t like me and now that we’re forced together, you’re trying to make it less obvious.” Lance said as he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. 

 

Pidge was quiet for a moment, probably scrambling up his defenses. But what came out was a confused and startled, “What.” 

 

He sounded as off guard as Lance imagined he would be. Lance was right, Pidge was a decent actor.   
 

But that just made him feel angrier. 

 

Lance knew a lot about how emotions are natural and that’s it’s not healthy to bottled them up. That they were dangerous and were like ticking time bombs. But when you have to hide every offense, so someone doesn't try and hit you, you bottle that shit up better than any soda bottle factory. Lance had gotten used to it.  

 

He had even labeled the different bottles by who they represented. There were so many one’s with Keith’s name on them. Some that just got bottled, some that were currently being shook, and some of them years old that they had gone flat and gross. 

 

But while there were thousands of Keith and other jackasses, they were only a few bottle that contained feelings about Pidge. But those bottles were big. Liter bottles instead of the water bottles that they used at big standardized tests because they think you’ll write cheats on ones you bring from outside school.   
 

To summarize this analogy that has gone on for way too long: Pidge just opened a two-liter bottle of coke inside Lance’s soul, did a thing to suspend a line of Mentos, capped the bottle, and Lance was going to explode. 

 

And Lance exploded... metaphorically.   
 

And a little literally. His crossed arms pushed themselves out in anger and he leaned closer to Pidge. 

 

“I mean it might be that you just don’t care about/for me in particular but the point still stands. You’re making small chat and being chummy when for the past year, you would barely talk to me or Hunk except to snark. It’s a nice act, but I’ve seen better.” 

 

Lance turned and let himself rise off the couch and power walk across the apartment to the door.   
 

“I- Lance, that’s not what happened or what’s happening at all.” Pidge called after them.   
 

Lance stopped in front of the door and sighed. He grabbed the door knob and turned to Pidge with a smile that probably didn’t reach his eyes.  “It’s fine. You don’t need to cover it up just because I called you out on it. Class dismissed.”   
 

He opened the door and then closed it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this, I might post the next chapter in like .... a month. I have school and other fics. Please comment and leave kudos.


	6. Lance is petty and does some intropection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is what the outline of this chapters fic was supposed to be: Lance tries to grill keith ---> Keith gets annoyed ---->They get in an argument which Hunk breaks up ---> Hunk just wants a sandwich. 
> 
>  
> 
> This has definately changed.

You know how you feel when you’ve had an argument, so you stomp up or down the stairs to express your anger? Well, Lance did something similar, if you change the power of the stomps (for noise) to speed.   
 

On one of the floors he was stomping down, he saw a clock that said 5:03. Cool, Lance only got 4-ish hours of sleep. Fuck this.   
 

He flung open the door when he got to the lobby and stomped into the courtyard.    
 

It was a locked enclosure with large trees, a koi pond, a bench, and a lot of bamboo.   
 

He looked at the dark sky that was starting to brighten up. Apollo was going to come over with his weird golden Ferrari called the sun.   
 

He sat on the bench. Lance took a deep breath and glared at the colors changing hue as the sun came, driving its way across the sky like Apollo was in morning traffic.    
 

He tried to relax his grinding jaw and his curled-up fists as his well-manicured nails were biting into the flesh of his hand, but he decided to forget it. He wasn’t going to really relax for a while.   
 

The darkness of the black was brightened into purple and then red followed it. Quick to replace it was blue wrapping around it in the spaces the red left behind, and yellow squeezed itself between the two colors. The green leaves on the trees surrounding him reflected the skies light in different ways that made the courtyard look like an amateur stained-glass painting.   
 

He might be personifying refracted light through water and trees but hey, they were probably nymphs. They had personalities, and quite human ones too. 

 

They might not be grandiose; hot headed, brash, and private; smiley and fake; kind, loyal, and intruding; or Clever and introverted personality. But they still had personalities.   
 

He let himself brood and mope. The colors rushed by and soon he was left with a blue sky that was dark with grey clouds. He felt the weight of the water in the clouds. 

 

People were rushing across the streets unlike the amble that they were when he had left the apartment. He saw people chatting about this and that.  

 

Occasionally he saw the mist evaporate in places and saw the horns and other characteristic traits of monsters that were considered half-blood safe. 

 

Those people, mortals, never had to deal with the bullshit of being a half-blood. Like, Lance can’t just live his life, because something is always going to try to kill him. And he had to be such a fucking unlucky bastard of a demigod, why couldn’t he have been a minor god’s kid. Fuck, even being the son of the god of fluffy clouds would be easier. 

 

Lance’s eyes turned back to the sky and found a weird horse/borzoi looking cloud. Didn’t Jupiter trick a dude into fucking a cloud that was shaped like Juno and it created the first centaurs? Or is that a Greek myth? Would the Cloud version of Juno be considered the first waifu thing? Lance narrowed his eyes.   
 

One time he had visited his brother and he had shown Lance a post from T*umblr that kept on asking if Noah and the whale would be considered the first vore. The previous train of thought was kind of like that. 

 

He had heard the ground crunch behind him several times in the past couple of hours, but this was the first time that they stopped behind the bench and didn’t pass him.   
 

“You're up earlier than usual.” Hunk said plainly, seeming like he was trying to be indifferent to the fact. He almost believed Hunk with his uncaring, flat tone. But Lance wasn’t fooled. Hunk’s voice was questioning and pointed when he said slowly, “I see you couldn’t stand the company.” 

 

Lance shrugged half-heartedly and didn’t look away from the view of the sidewalk. That tale was probably the only time Jupiter was nice to Juno. Why on earth did Juno stick with him? Was it because they had names that started with ‘Ju’? Juno could do better, she could be a happy lesbian goddess with a stable marriage with some titan name June or something. But  _noooo_ , she can’t get divorced from the  _god of the sky_. That part of the issue isn’t relevant, but Lance fucking hates the sky. He almost got struck down when they flew to Cuba for vacation.   
 

Lance shouldn't space out, but hey- he’s thinking his thoughts. “Yep.”  

 

Hunk sighed and sat on the bench beside him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Hunk crossing his arms and struggling with the decision to cross his legs or not. “Did anything happen? Was it a dream? Did you start a fight with Keith?”  

 

Lance clicked his tongue as he was brought back to reality and kept tapping his fingers to the wood-how long has he been doing that? He chuckled with soft harsh breathes and gave a hard smile. Hunk was so down to earth, it's surprising that he ever became friends with Lance. Lance is so predictable and petty. Gross.   
 

He must be painfully still, except for his hands. His entire body felt tense. It was hard to push the words out of the uncomfortably tenseness of his face and jaw. “It’s sometimes scary how perceptive you are.”  

 

Lance didn’t need to look up to see the eyebrows of unsurprised disappointment and the dead eyed stare of ‘I called it’. Hunk groaned and picked a play out of Lance’s book- likely from friendship osmosis- by forcing out a laugh before sighing so tiredly. Lance knew he was pinching his nose. “So, you’re saying that you did all the above.”  

 

Lance shrugged his shoulders as he kept stimming, though a bit faster. It seemed like he could hear nearby laughter. Were they laughing at him? No, no, they don’t know him... or do they and this has all been-no. No. Hunk is better than that and Keith would never come back just to screw with Lance. And Pidge wouldn’t have been without armor. “Sort of. Had a weird dream and had a spat with Pidge.”   

 

Hunk took a deep and exaggerated sigh before seeming to calm himself a bit. “I’m going to ask about the dream later.”   
 

Lance nodded absently, “I’m grateful.”    
 

“I’ll infer that the dream made you a little on edge, assume that you ended up using Pidge as a way to make you feel less on edge, and you accidently revealed some of your feelings that you wish to keep a secret from the rest of us.” Hunk said with a clinical air to him.   
 

Lance grimaced, his feet were scribbling into the ground and his gaze left the semi busy streets to meet the ground. “Again, your Langst feelings-o-meter is being scary accurate again.”    
 

Lance heard Hunk’s hoodie hustle and shrugged off Hunk’s insistent prodding. Hunk kept at, intruding with his concerned touches and soft voice, “What happened with Pidge?”    
 

Lance grinned to quickly and felt only slightly guilty doing so. “Like seriously, I’m trying to push the Adhd distraction to the max, how are you able to defend yourself. I don’t wanna do this. Are you even a half-blood? Isn’t like the statistic for demigods like... 40% likely compared to the average 11%? How are you immune to my nonsense? Are you not actually a half-blood?” 

 

Hunk seemed to bite down a smile. 

 

“I am demigod- you saw me get claimed with a fire over my head- and I suffer from several anxiety disorders, so I am not immune because of your nonsense, I am stronger because of it.” Hunk rolled his eyes with his steam roller tone. He stopped for a second and shook his head before staring at Lance with Blank eyes. “Stop trying to distract me. What happened with Pidge?”  

 

Lance winced but laughed at that and looked longingly at the door of the courtyard, how he hadn't to talk about it. “Oh, that plot device is so weird. And I’m going to keep trying because it was petty.”  

 

Audible eye roll.  “And I’m supposed to be surprised that it was petty.”  

 

Lance’s head snapped around to look at the first time today. He gasped dramatically and put a hand over his chest in his own defense. “Excuse you, I am not always petty.”  

 

Hunk’s eyebrow raised again, and he looked quite done with Lance at this point. “Your entire vendetta/rivalry with Keith is super petty, my man. And when you’re not deep in that petty nonsense, you boil feelings  _that you’re supposed to talk to me about like we promised_  into fuel for more petty stuff.”  

 

Lance looked away awkwardly and grimaced. “I mean, fair. But still.”  

 

Hunk nodded and then shoved at Lance. “Now out with it, you dramatic piece of Jello.”  

 

Lance cracked a smile and raise an eyebrow of his own. “Jello?”  

 

Hunk sighed exasperatedly and nudged him again. “Stop deflecting.”  

 

Lance pouted and crossed his arms. “Fine. He kept trying to talk to me and I didn’t want to because he doesn't talk to us much outside of bantering and training. So, I said that.”  

 

Hunk hummed and shrugged at it.    
 

He seemed a bit disappointed at it. “I can’t say that I liked how you did that but at least it’s off your chest.”    
 

When he had met Hunk when he was 14 and the early months of their friendship was Lance bottling stuff up because he didn’t want Hunk to know about and hate him for it. Lance still avoids topics but ... he’s less afraid of Hunk finding out. But he still doesn't like showing it. 

 

Hunk was the only one who he could talk to sometimes. 

 

Lance flushed and felt himself pout. He couldn't really keep the whine out of his voice, “But he’s probably going to badger me about it.”  

 

Hunk nodded and got up. He stretched his arms about his head and despite his easy-going smile, his voice wasn’t very sympathetic when he said, “Yeah but you dug your own grave and all that. Come inside, Elias woke up at a normal human hour and is making food.”  

 

Lance huffed and got up for the first time in hours. He winced at how sore his butt felt. He hissed. “Fine.”   

 

Lance looked back at the sky. The sky was still a little grey, but it was a lighter shade of blue and the clouds were starting to hide themselves again. He moved through the quiet morning with the chatter in the air. Hunk opened the door and Lance walked back into the lobby of the apartment complex. 

 

Lance took the stairs two-at-a-time, like usual. They got halfway up the first floor when Lance turned around and asked, “Did you have any dreams?” 

 

Hunk froze on the stair before putting his foot down gently. Lance could see that Hunk’s eyes widened at Lance, his eyebrows raised, and the corners of his mouth pulled up. "What?”   
 

Lance rolled his eyes. “You never talk about your dreams.”   
 

Hunk shrugged and bobbed his head for a second. “I never really have a reason to do so.”   
 

Lance turned around and jumped up two stairs. “Yeah, I guess. But I don’t want to think about mine.” 

 

Lance jumped another pair of stairs and Hunk hummed. 

 

“I saw an old woman lying on the bed of an old man.” Hunk said.   
 

Lance smiled like a cat and tipped his head to the side as he jumped another set of stairs. “Laying...?”   
 

“Lance! No!” Hunk sound scandalized. Lance jumped again and walked to the next set of stairs, and hopped on them, two at a time.   
 

“Just asking!” Lance sniggered and jumped a couple more stairs, “What was happening?”   
 

Hunk hummed and thought about it for a second before speaking. “I was kneeling next to the old lady, who looked almost 70, and the man on the bed looked almost old and was comatose. She put her hand on his forehead and said... I don’t remember but I think she was sorry for something.”   
 

“And?” Lance stopped and turned around.   
 

Hunk frowned. “Her hands glowed, like how we’ve seen someone manipulate the mist. And the scene changed, I saw a young man, who looked like me... but it wasn’t me. He was in a war, but he was wearing old army, like almost WW1 era army stuff. He charged into the battle and I saw the old man- who was much younger than I first saw him. And I knew it was him, but I had no clue how, he looked nothing like him. He looked 40, and the medical gear I saw at the begging looked awfully new.” 

 

He stopped and shook his head, “The old man told the man not to go ahead and the young man said, ‘that’s what I keep you around for’, and then I had a sickening feeling like something bad was going to happen.”   
 

Lance tilted his head, “Did something happen.”   
 

Hunk shook his head and looked wary. “No, but I think that’s what makes it worse.” 

   
 

* * *

  
 

 

Lance opened the door of the apartment and saw Elias putting dishes into the dishwasher with the help of Keith, who seemed entranced by the routine of looking and putting the dirty food tools in the right place.    
 

Seeing Keith in the morning light, he looked run down.   
 

Keith had dark circles and the flashes of nails that Lance saw, were bitten down to the cuticles. Lance winced at that. His clothes looked rumpled and unwashed.    
 

Keith had his limp and kinda greasy mullet in a ponytail and had his fingerless gloves, which wasn't a surprise since dude never took off the damn things. Lance felt his stomach church since Keith had gotten his gloves when he was 13 and was announced as son of Mars. But despite all of it, Keith looked more relaxed than Lance ever remembered him, and Lance felt something tug at his heart at this disgustingly soft scene and frown at it. This was all very unnatural.   
 

Elias looked up and smiled at both of them. “Oh, there you are Lance. Didn’t see you get up.”  

 

Keith’s head whipped up and he scrambled away from the dishrack. Before Elias could say anything, Keith made a zipping motion and ran to the room he had taken hostage. 

 

Lance and the rest of the people there were quiet for a good five minutes before Lance answered Elias’s question honestly, if awkwardly. He had no real need to understand Keith’s odd behavior. “I’ve been up. For a while.”  

 

Elias snapped out of his sort of befuddled trance and said, “You sound dead and like you don't want to talk to anyone.”  

 

He pointed at a cup of hot chocolate that Hunk had been eyeing before Keith’s weird exit. Hunk grinned and grabbed it before sitting on a chair next to the counter. 

 

Lance smiled wearily, “I thought Hunk was the only one who could read minds in this house.”  

 

Elias grinned and shut the dishwasher and grabbed a small plate of pancakes, handing them to Lance who nodded his thanks. “Wrong, there are two of us now. Now, I’m assuming you guys are running out soon. Should I pack you guys some lunchables.”  

 

Lance stopped stabbing the pancake and used the hand that wasn’t holding his fork to touch his heart softly, “You would do that for us man?”  

 

“Yes, Lance. I’m feeling rather parental.” Elias flushed and looked away. He bit his lip before looking thoughtful at where Keith had started to reappear from, “And I don't think Keith or Shiro have money.”  

 

“They don’t. I searched their pockets.” Hunk said and took another sip of his hot chocolate while reading the English to Spanish dictionary that he had in his fanny pack, there was no shame on his face.   
 

Keith, who seemed to have recovered from his freak out, froze like an angry deer in headlights. “You did what?”  

 

Lance snickered and resumed stabbing his pancakes, “Sometimes I forget how nosy you are.” 

 

“You forget or is it because you stop hiding stuff?” Hunk smiled and took another sip, ignoring Keith. 

 

Lance swallowed a large piece of soggy Pancakes and shrugged. "I mean both.”  

 

Elias chuckled and leaned against the counter. “As much as I like banter that isn’t between Lance and Keith, someone answer the question. I’m halfway to packing you guys bentos and enough money for a month. Which I don’t have. Since I’m a broke college student who has three jobs.” 

 

Keith gave a strained smile as he eyed Elias before looking away and staring back at the room he just reemerged from. His arms were crossed over his chest and his foot was quietly tapping at the floor. “I would suggest a good 20 bucks and a couple days' worth of lunch is good for us. We’ve all had survival training.”  

 

Elias blinked and nodded slowly. His bouncing face said to Lance, ‘of course you murder children have survival training’, and he smiled.  

 

“Great. You guys talk, and I’ll make snacks. God, I feel like a suburban soccer mom.” Elias chuckled the last words and grabbed some plastic baggies from underneath the sink and began rummaged through the fridge. 

 

It was weird to see Keith interact with people, he mostly had bitten heads off back at Camp Jupiter. 

 

Lance and Hunk continued slowly consuming what they had been given to them, letting the silence envelop the room. Lance chewed on the pancakes and watched how Keith was fidgeting and looking back into the room that he taken and brought Shiro into. He looked tired and he ... looked like his shoulders had widened a smidge since he last saw him. And that he didn’t get regular meals.   
 

Pidge wandered out of the bathroom and said nothing when he saw Lance. He nodded at Pidge, hoping he got that he wasn’t still angry about last night. Lance thought that he got the message, because his shoulders loosened a bit. Pidge looked at Keith, and they had a small stare down. 

 

Lance cleared his throat. The silence was comfortable, but it probably should be broken. He smiled stiffly at Keith, “Has Shiro woken up yet?”    
 

Keith startled from his staring competition with Pidge and stared at him before turning his open expression to a frown and shook his head.  

 

He bit his lip and looked away from Lance and Hunk and back to Shiro’s resting place, “No... but he’s a pulse. He’s breathing. He’s fine, just ... asleep.”  

 

Hunk’s hands started tapping anxiously as he looked back at where Shiro was. “How do we know he doesn't have any internal bleeding?”   
 

Everyone was quiet for a moment.   
 

“We don’t.” Pidge frowned and his voice sounded a little shaky, “And we can’t even give him a bit of nectar or ambrosia without it being dangerous.”  

 

Lance inhaled forceful, before attempting something like a joke. “We’re just going to live on a prayer. Actually, can someone make a prayer to Apollo. We don’t know if he’ll get it, but you know, better safe than sorry.”  

 

Lance eyed the rest of the pancakes before he looked at Pidge, “Do you think he likes pancakes?” 

 

“He better, I tried my best.” Elias said distracted in the kitchen and then asked, “Is Apollo like the only god who kept their Greek name when they translated over?”  

 

“Yeah.”  

 

“Why?” Elias said as Lance handed the rest of the pancakes to Hunk, he always did the best offerings. 

 

Lance shrugged as Hunk went to the stove and recited a prayer, which made the gas fire burn silver, gold, and green before settling at a warm yellow. “We’re modern Romans; we have no clue of the thought process of ancient romans. Why are you asking us?”  

 

Elias stared at the flames eat at the pancakes and then return to the usual colors. “Fair point.”   

 

Keith cracked his neck and turned back to the room.    
 

“We should leave soon.” He said almost as sharply as the gladius he was cleaning. Lance could feel a headache setting in. 

 

He ignored it, of course. He waved his hands in front of himself and smirked, “Alright, Keith. Hold your horses, we’ll get to your shack in the desert in plenty of time.”  

 

Keith head snapped towards Lance faster than the demon in the Exorcist, and he looked exactly how Lance felt about seeing that. Displeased, kind of scared, and hugely freaked out. Lance was a little afraid that the jerky motions might make Keith cut himself. “How did you know I lived in the desert?”  

 

Lance’s smile froze and his eyes narrowed slightly in absolute befuddlement. “That was a guess- wait, I was right?!” 

 

Silence.  

 

Pidge started snickering. He grinned like cat that caught the canary and did the Sherlock finger pose (what a nerd), “I will ignore this tempting information until I can see said shack in the dessert. Or at least take a picture.”  

 

Keith’s eyes narrowed and he practically growled, “You will do no such thing”  

 

“Watch me you Hubbard’s silk moth.” Pidge grinned and sat at the table. 

 

Keith’s hands fumbled, and he almost dropped the gladius. He almost looked like he hadn’t ever experience teasing before.... Though that’s a weird idea to begin with. He grabbed the hilt before anything bad could happen, and then frowned, first at the sword and then at Pidge. “What.”  

 

“It’s a moth species that’s common in the Sonoran Desert that has a red and black color scheme,” Pidge said, manner-of-factly, and looked at Hunk with a grin. “Much like this hermit.”  

 

After that line, almost everyone except Keith and sleeping Shiro started giggling in different variation. Pidge started cackling which lasted several minutes and it was contagious.    
 

Keith blinked at it, and Hunk sucked in a breath before looking back at Pidge with questioning eyes and a barely restrained grin “Why do you know that? I thought you hated the outdoors.” 

 

The grin fell of Pidge’s face like Hunk slapped it off, and Pidge looked like his eyes were starting to mist. A hush fell over the room. 

 

“Someone who I knew used to like them.”  

 

And another silence fell upon the group and Lance looked at Hunk, who also looked lost. They knew Pidge well enough that Hunk’s usual system of comfort wouldn’t work.  

 

“Do you guys need any help with getting one the road?”  Elias said and everyone silently looked back at him. Elias put a sack lunch into a QFC grocery bag and gave an inquiring gaze. “Well?” 

 

Keith nodded, “Sure.”  

 

 

* * *

  
 

 

Elias handed the bag (containing several other bags, lunch bags) to Pidge, who was stacked on top of Shiro (who was on top of Hunk). He smiled at them and he had a twinkle in his eye when he said, “It was nice meeting you all, I hope you get to the desert safely. Send me some snail mail.” 

 

Hunk chuckled as he adjusted awkwardly until the human jenga happening in the sidecar. “I don’t think we’ll be able to get to a post office but okay?”  

 

Lance couldn’t see Keith’s face from where he was sitting but Keith sounded rather indifferent when he said, “We’ll make sure to send you some sign that we made it.”  

 

Elias snorted, “I’ve only known you for less than half a day, but I’m pretty sure that that means that something to do with explosions or some other form of chaos.”    
 

He looked at Lance and then to Hunk, looking them dead in the eye with a deadpan grin. “Make sure he doesn't do anything too stupid.”    
 

Keith ignores Elias and Lance laughed at that, his whole-body shuttering with sarcasm before he looked back at Elias and smiled. “Can’t promise anything until Shiro’s awake. He’s the only one that Mullet will listen to.”  

 

Elias’s mouth twitched and nodded softly. “Then I hope he wakes up soon.”  

 

“Same.” 

 

Keith’s response was met with silence for a full minute before Elias patted Keith’s shoulder and backed up, “Well, you guys best be going.”  

 

Keith revved the engine and Hunk smiled and waved as the motorcycle rumbled to life, “I was nice meeting you! Thanks for everything!” 

 

And with that, they left the apartment complex behind. Lance sighed and leaned on Keith. “This sucks.” 

 

“You didn’t have to come.” 

 

Lance sighed again and let himself feel numb and empty. He stared at the speeding road and left the world drift from his mind. “Yes, yes I did.” 

   
 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have definately been .... not doing this. But people who do want to see more of this, I have to warn you... I have a life. That might seem funny but I have college and I'm barely into Voltron at this point. I might try to upload this shit but it's a big maybe (at best). However: please comment and kudo because .... i like validation.


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